Watch Me Disappear

he announces, and like brainwashed morons, all the girls move to the dance floor. Most of the guys stand off to the side watching, but those who are dancing are really showing off their moves.
    “Finally!” Missy says. She starts walking toward the dance floor, but when she realizes I’m not with her she stops. “Come on! This is the fun part.”
    “We’ve been through this,” I say. “I don’t dance.”
    “Fine. But at least come closer to the dance floor.”
    I cross my arms, but reluctantly follow her. So I just stand there, yawning, watching everyone dance in a manner that strikes me as out-of-sync with the party’s theme. It is hard to believe none of the adults realize that most of the kids are hammered, and I conclude that in fact most of the adults understand the situation and are just letting it happen. I wonder when my own parents will get wise and decide it’s time to go home. I am about to go ask them how much longer when Jessica finds me.
    “Lizzie! I’m so glad you’re here,” she says, slurring her words, and draping a sweaty arm around me. “Back when we met, I thought how much I’d like us to be friends.”
    Her breath could kill a cow.
    “Come dance with us, Lizzie!” she says, trying to tug me toward the dance floor.
    “You know, I kind of have a headache,” I say.
    “Ah, we can fix that. Just ask John. You have to come dance,” she says. “Come get a drink and then you’ll want to dance.”
    I try to remove Jessica’s arm gently and when that doesn’t work I shrug her off forcibly. “Maybe next time, ok?” I say, walking away quickly to find my parents.
    “I promised Patty we would stay until the end,” my mother says when I plead to go home. “She wants some adults to stick around to keep an eye on everyone.”
    “So you’re the chaperones, now?” I say. Some job they’re doing. All the kids are getting drunk under my parents’ watchful eyes.
    “Anyway, they have a big surprise gift for Maura and I want to see the expression on her face.”
    I look to my father, but he just shakes his head. “Looks like Missy is having fun.”
    I turn to face the dance floor. Missy does indeed appear to be having fun. She has gone through a number of dance partners. Even from across the room, she is easy to spot with her red hair and gold dress. As I look on, I am surprised to see that her newest partner is Paul, and neither of them is holding anything back.
    My mother follows my gaze and makes a “humph” noise. “They call that dancing,” she says.
    A few minutes before ten, Mr. and Mrs. Morgan appear behind the DJ table to make the big announcement. “We are so excited you all could join us to celebrate our Maura’s eighteenth birthday,” Mrs. Morgan says, sounding a little nervous and out of breath. “Of course, her actual birthday is Monday, so she can’t go out and buy any lottery tickets until then.”
    “Or cigarettes,” some kid shouts out, interrupting her.
    Mrs. Morgan laughs nervously and looks puzzled, as if she had memorized her speech word for word but now, having been interrupted, she cannot locate in her mind the next word. Mr. Morgan takes over. “I’m so proud of Maura,” he begins. “When Patty and I found each other and decided to get married, I didn’t just get a wife. I got the best step-daughter I could ever ask for.” He focuses directly on Maura. “Maura, honey, we know you are destined for success.” He pauses and clears his throat. He looks at Patty who nods for him to continue. He digs in his pocket for a moment and then holds up a set of car keys. “We thought you’d like to cruise into your future in a car of your own,” he says.
    Maura squeals like a game show contestant. She runs to her parents and hugs them both, and I wonder if they can smell the booze on her or if they are too drunk themselves to notice. They walk across the patio toward the parking lot. The car is a silver Volkswagen Jetta. Mr. Morgan places the keys in Maura’s hand and steps back as she clicks the remote lock. Everyone oohs at the sight of the interior lights coming on. Maura gets in and rolls down the window so everyone can admire her behind the wheel.  All I can think is how insane it will be if they let her drive home.
    “One more thing, honey,” Mr. Morgan says, stepping over to the window. He hands her a credit card. “A gas card. We’ll keep you cruising, at least until you finish school.” Then he turns to the rest of us who had